


a good woman

by starforged



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Minor Spoilers for 803, Parallels, Podrick realizes he's the child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 12:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18738694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starforged/pseuds/starforged
Summary: brienne/jaime: i am a luxury few can afford





	a good woman

It is impossible. 

Those are the words that repeat over and over in Jaime’s mind as he stares at the carnage left behind by the Long Night. Even in his thoughts, that event seems to have emphasis. It’s not the death that seems impossible. No, that was inevitable. He’s seen war. He’s _been_  war. 

It’s the life that seems like it shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t be alive, and yet here he half stands, his body slumped with exhaustion against the battered walls of Winterfell that he just defended. And he’s alive. He knows he is because his body aches in places it hasn’t ached in quite a while, muscles that have grown weak suddenly in action. Even his stump throbs, which - well, perhaps not so ridiculous a notion. It had come in handy during the night. 

Perhaps he could get someone to make a golden club to slip over it. What use is a hand that can’t do much but glint in the sun, anyway?

He closes his eyes to the broken and mangled and takes a deep breath. He’s letting himself get carried away by his own nonsense. He’s tired. He’s hurt. He’s in a sore need of a bath. 

“Ser Jaime.”  


Her voice is - everything. It’s gravely and tinged with a surprise of her own. Is she thinking what he is?

That he should be dead?

It’s what he meant to happen. He meant to give his life and get what he’s always wanted: a hero’s remembrance. He meant to die for the wrongs he’d done and would do and hasn’t committed yet, because he is Jaime Lannister, and there’s going to be a wrong. 

What the fuck is he going to do now?

“Ser Brienne.” The title comes so naturally to him, and it’s only been hours since he knighted her. She is the best of them, the best of anyone to come. When he opens his eyes and looks up at her, her gaze is bright and alert for someone covered in so much grime and smells much worse than she looks.   


Blood smears across her spattering of freckles, and her lips are slightly parted. And her damn eyes. 

He rubs his with his thumb and forefinger.

“And Podric,” the squire interjects, and the boy has managed to get between the two of them.   


Jaime allows himself to smile, a crooked little thing that flutters across his face. “And Podric, of course. How could we forget about you?”

“It’s easy,” Podric mutters.   


Jaime rests his stump on the boy’s head, because he’s on his right side, and because his right hand is missing. It’s an affectionate sort of pat. He’s a good lad, and Brienne is a good teacher. A good leader, commander. A good woman. 

“What did you just say?” she asks.  


Podric’s face has screwed up in amusement.

“What?” Jaime asks in return. He hasn’t said anything.  


“You said ‘a good woman’.”

“Did I?” His voice is almost a slur now. Why is he slurring? He’s getting old if the end of the world can knock him right off his feet.   


“You did,” Podric answers in the weird silence that grips them. “Should I leave?”  


“No,” Jaime and Brienne say together.   


“Good.” He slides to the ground, kicking his leg over broken stone. “I don’t think I could move if I wanted to.”  


Jaime understands how that feels as he uses the wall for more support. 

“Sir Jaime?” Her hand is on his elbow, supporting his other side, her face much closer than she would ever allow unless he was in dire straits. She always seems to catch him at his weakest, and yet she never judges the way Cersei would have. The way his father would have.   


He turns his head just slightly, gazing at the worry in those ridiculously beautiful eyes. “Like sapphires.”

Even beneath the muck, he sees her cheeks go red, then her ears.

“You’re speaking nonsense,” she whispers, voice catching. She clears her throat. “We need to get you help.”  


“I’m fine,” Jaime protests. “I’m not dying, Brienne. It seems you’re stuck with me.”  


Her face is practically the same color as a tomato. It’s attractive. 

“The maiden knight and the bear.” Gods, he’s so tired. “I’m the bear.” Maybe he is dying, or he is dead, and he’s gone somewhere only traitors go. It would be fitting. His ideas of loyalty have fallen apart, and he can’t blame that on Brienne, but a lot of it is because of Brienne.   


“He’s delirious,” Podrick says from his spot on the ground.  


Her grip on his elbow is impossibly tight, as if she might break his arm off. 

“Careful now, I’ve only got the one hand left.”  


“You’re impossible, Jaime.” His name is a snap on her tongue, but she says it all the same.   


Even if he wasn’t heir to the richest family in the world, he thinks this to be the greatest treasure of them all. He also thinks he says that aloud, but doesn’t have time to ruminate on that one as the world goes in shades of greys and browns. 


End file.
